


Looking After You

by winsister91



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Insomnia, Prescription Drug Abuse, cuddles!!, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 07:37:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18890122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winsister91/pseuds/winsister91
Summary: Commission for @im-a-teddy-bear-doctorAmy struggles through another night alone with her thoughts, when an unexpected knock comes at her door.





	Looking After You

The nights were the worst. Long drawn out silence and isolation. Thoughts were a curse, endlessly looping and intensifying beyond bearable comprehension. Distractions became nothing but white noise, unable to drown out the internal degradation or alleviate the constant pain deep down, which continued to bubble and grow like an uncomfortable ball of pressure.

Amy turns off the TV, bunches up on the couch with her knees to her chest. She hated nights like this. Unable to shake or ignore the shadow that followed her and insisted on staying for the considerable future. She wanted to talk to someone,  _anyone_ , but couldn’t bring herself to pick up the phone for fear of being a burden. Opting to settle and try to battle alone rather than spread the cloud of darkness that consumes her onto the people she loved. They didn’t deserve it, and she didn’t deserve their time.

She rises from the couch, slowly walking and breathing deeply, making her way to the kitchen for something comforting. A hot chocolate, or maybe something rich and indulgent. She opens the fridge, glancing inside and her stomach rolls sickeningly. She swiftly slams the door closed and charges back to the living room and her couch. She grabs for her computer, scrolling aimlessly on numerous sites in search of something to lose herself in.

A knock raps on the door.

She jolts, fear gripping her heart as she looked at the time. She wonders who could possibly be showing up at this time of night. She tentatively rises back from the couch, heading for the front door and peeking through the peephole.

“Dean?” she mumbles, hastily unlocking the door and throwing it open, staring at him with wide eyes, “W-what’s wrong?”

“Amy,” he smiles upon seeing her, relief washing over him as he huddled under the small ledge that sheltered him from the rain, “Can I come in?”

“S-sure,” she steps aside, looking up at the sky and watching the rain fall heavily. She hadn’t even noticed it had started raining at all, and it looked like it had been going for a good while now.

“You’re soaked…” she mumbles, gazing at him standing in her hallway and droplets dripping from his hair and clothes, “Hold on, I’ll find you a towel.”

She moves past him, soon returning with a warm fluffy white towel and handing it to him before she rubbed at her arms and shuffled on the spot.

“What’s wrong Dean?” she asks, anxiety panging on her heart, “I-is there something in town?”

“No nothing like that,” he says reassuringly, mopping at his hair with the towel and removing his jacket, hanging it on a nearby radiator, “I’m just passing through. I texted you but…”

“You did?” she furrows her brow, reaching for her phone and scrolling through the few notifications she’d so far ignored, not willing to handle a conversation at the time. She spots the text towards the bottom of the list and her heart sinks with guilt. “S-sorry I just…I haven’t looked at my phone today.”

“I thought as much,” he says softly, “So I thought I’d come and check in, sorry it’s so late, we just rolled into town.”

“It’s okay,” she assures him, “It’s me that should be sorry. Um…do you want a drink or anything? I have some beers.”

“Never turned down a beer in my life,” he chuckles, “I’ll get it, you sit. Do you want one?”

She shakes her head, sitting slowly on the end of the couch, more guilt attacking her for her hosting skills. She can hear him in the kitchen, bottles clanging together as he rummaged in the fridge. She’d known Dean for about two years now. She’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, caught up in the middle of two Vampire packs fighting for territory, but thankfully Sam and Dean were on the case. She was one of very few survivors of the ordeal, and the boys had taken care of her, brought her home, gave her the talk on what was really out there and how to stay safe. She took it very seriously, numerous warding sigils hidden under pictures and paintings and furniture dotted about her home. She was sure to keep a healthy supply of salt in stock too, as well as having the boys on her speed dial.

Dean was sweet. Always looking out for her. She’d met them a few times now, predominantly when they rolled through town and Dean wanted to  _check in._  She didn’t entirely know why, but it wasn’t unwelcome. He’d just come round and talk, about anything really. Whatever he and Sam had been up to, funny stories, asking her random questions about her likes and dislikes. She wondered if he was just using her as some form of escape, and even if he was she understood. Everyone needs an escape.

He appears back in the room, sitting on the couch beside her and sipping from his bottle, leaning back into the cushions and sighing with relief, “Boy I need this, thanks, Amy.”

“It’s okay,” she nods, a small smile on her lips, “So…how are things?”

“Crap,” he chuckles, “But what’s new huh? What about you?”

“Um…fine I guess,” she shrugs.

“Then why am I not convinced?” he leans forward, studying her features, “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Dean…” she shakes her head, rubbing her eyes and feeling under a spotlight, “It’s nothing, don’t worry. You got bigger things to worry about.”

“It’s not nothing though,” he urges, “It’s  _you_.”

“And?” she shrugs, “So what? I’m nothing. You’re the guys who go out there and save people and…you shouldn’t be wasting your time hanging around here with me.”

“Well, that’s  _my_ decision,” he shrugs, sipping again at his beer and setting it on the table before them, “Don’t say things like that, you’re far from nothing.”

“ _Dean!_ ” she cries, noting a large red stain growing in size on the front of his shirt after he leaned forward, “You’re hurt!?”

“Goddammit…” he looks down at his shirt and winces, “It’s nothing, some of the stitches must have come out…”

“Stay there!” she orders, instantly getting to her feet and charging back to the kitchen to find her first aid kit.

Dean grumbles to himself, scowling and holding the wound tightly to compress it. They hadn’t even needed to pass through here, it was a good two hour’s detour, but Amy had been on his mind for weeks. He felt calm when he was with her, like they lived in their own separate bubble and could just  _be_. After the last few encounters and her infrequently answering (more often  _not_ answering) his messages, he couldn’t ignore his growing concern. She looked tired, her voice was quieter, her messages degrading down to simple singular words on occasion.

She re-entered the room hastily, dropping back down again beside him and her breath catching in her throat. “Y-you’ll need to unfasten your shirt,” she mumbles.

He nods, wincing again with slight pain as he adjusted himself and gradually popped each button loose. The material clings to the blood, sticking to him and forcing him to have to peel it away and he clenches his teeth.

“Slowly,” she whispers, moving his hands away and peeling back the shirt herself delicately, grimacing as the large wound is revealed. “Oh my God…” she gasps, “What did you do?”

“We had a uh… _interesting_ situation with some Werewolves,” he tries to laugh it off, clenching his eyes as she gingerly disinfected the cut.

She sighs out, her eyes narrowing as she cleans, “I don’t have  _all_ the kit, but I’ll do my best.”

“You’re good,” he encourages her to continue, “No point trying to fix the stitches now, just bandage it up and I’ll look at it myself when I get back to the bunker.”

Amy nods, as she bandages the wound up, tying it off securely and tightly, “Is that okay?” she asks nervously, doubting her efforts.

“Perfect,” he nods, pulling his shirt back across him but not fastening it back up, his torso still visible through the gap. “Sorry, I didn’t come to play  _Doctors and Nurses_  I promise,” he says with a smirk.

A small smile plays on the corner of Amy’s lips, “It’s okay,” she says quietly, gathering up the medical supplies and rising to her feet, “You really should have someone look at that though.”

“Sammy and I have patched ourselves up countless times,” he winks reassuringly, “It’ll be fine, you did a good job.”

She nods, the smile dropping as she takes the supplies back to the bathroom. Closing the cabinet, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her temple throbs instantly with a headache while she looks at herself. Dean was right, you really could tell she hadn’t slept properly in days, bags under her eyes and her hair messy and unkempt. Clenching her jaw, she opens the cabinet back up and reaches for a bottle of pain pills, popping the lid and dropping two small white tablets into her open palm.

“Are you in pain?” Dean’s voice came from behind her. He leaned on the doorway, his firm and muscular torso on display and the bandage staying firmly wrapped around him.

Amy spins around with a jump, her eyes wide and panicked as her fist closed tightly around the pills in her grasp. “J-just a headache,” she stutters, cheeks pinkening and her head dropping fast as she went to swallow the small numbing tablets.

Dean moves quicker despite his injury, grabbing her hand and removing the pills. “Maybe,” he said softly, “you have a headache because you’re not sleeping.”

“I’m fine Dean,” she lies, her cheeks now a harsh red and her voice trembling, “I-it’s just some pain killers, no biggie.”

“And how often are you taking them?” His meadow green eyes looking back into her with genuine concern, “I do notice these things, you were popping meds the last time I saw you too. You don’t know how much it kills me having to leave you alone and go off to…work. I care about you Amy, and you’re worrying me.”

“D-Dean…” her mouth hangs open slightly as she processes his words. She can feel her body begin to tremble as it doesn’t know how to react to kindness aimed in her direction. “Y-you’re needed out  _there_ , you shouldn’t be wasting time with me, I mean… _look_ at me!”

Amy looks at herself in the mirror again and the all too familiar painful squirm attacks her guts. She can feel her eyes burning at seeing her own face and body, what she felt was the physical embodiment of someone worthless, undeserving and hideous.

“You deserve so much more than some  _fucking_ pathetic waste of life,” she hisses with a bubble of anger, tearing her eyes away from the mirror and looking to the floor.

Before she can take a breath she feels herself scooped into a tight embrace. Dean’s smooth marble like skin gliding over her arms and snaking around her back in a firm hold. She goes rigid, frozen in shock as his head rests on hers and he whispers gently, “ _Don’t_ say things like that.”

“B-but it’s  _true_ ,” she whimpers, feeling her eyes become full as her brain rejected his words of its own will.

“I wouldn’t  _lie_ to you Amy,” he urges, pulling his head back to look her. He smiles softly, brushing a thumb down her cheek and shaking his head, “I may need to lie to some people as part of my  _job_ ,” he shrugs admittedly, “But I’d  _never_ lie to you.”

She breathes in harshly, fighting back the tears that threatening to break through and her jaw trembling. Relenting under his gaze, she drops her head onto his chest, her own arms now gripping around him and careful to avoid his wound. A small sob breaks through and he holds her, letting her vent out her pain and keeping her safe in his arms. He kisses the top of her head gently, holding his hand in her hair before resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Hey…” he whispers softly as her sobs start to dwindle and her heartbeat starts to slow against his chest, “C’mon.”

Taking her hand he leads her to the bedroom, pulling back the sheets for her and guiding her beneath them.

“Dean,” she sniffles, sitting on the mattress and looking up at him helplessly, “What are you-”

“You need some sleep,” he holds her arm with a light squeeze, “So sleep, I’m not going anywhere.”

He lays on top of the sheets next to her, his eyes clenching slightly as pain shot up from his wound while he adjusted to a more comfortable position.

“I can’t ask you to do this,” Amy shakes her head, wiping her cheeks before her lingering tears became dry and crusty.

“You  _didn’t_ ask,” he mumbles, gliding his arm around her and bringing her down to lay beside him, “I’m not leaving you this time until I know you’re okay.”

“You could be here a while,” she huffs, the corner of her lip twitching as she sunk into the pillow and faced him.

“So be it,” he smiles, pulling her in close and sighing as his chin rested on her forehead.

He feels warm, his breath washing over her and his muscled bicep shielding her. Leaning into his torso, she felt her eyes become heavy for the first time in days.

“Thank you…”


End file.
